For My Country, For Your Love
by DarkSoccerKnight7012
Summary: Yes, this is an update. Leila and Matt are happy to be leaving Bern, but Gerard seems more sullen than usual. What could be perturbing him? And will it jeopardize LeilaxMatthew? Please R and R!
1. Prologue: Shadows

**A/N**: Yeah, you didn't ask for it…and I really didn't either. It just kinda came to me one night, so I started writing, and I like it! I promise you that it won't be sappy, though. Snappy, maybe…but never sappy. Except when Leila thinks. She's a hopeless romantic.

(divider!)

Prologue: Shadows 

The night was dark, the sky devoid of stars. A chill winter breeze swirled in the air, laying a thin, crackling blanket of frost upon the brittle ground. Since the summer drought, and a relatively dry fall, there was barely anything on the ground. Only now, as storm clouds threatened a blizzardin the sky, was there a threat of precipitation.

Twelve braziers burned brightly around the outer walls of Castle Terona, a sole source of light in the blackness that blanketed the land of Elibe. Even still, shadows crept up the walls, nimble fingers searching for handholds as they clambered over the parapets. There was a sound, a clattering of steel, as one of the shadows met a Bern soldier. The Bern soldier was quickly silenced, lowered down to the stone and hidden from view.

"Do you think they heard that?"

"Not possible. This idiot must've had terrible luck." The shadow turned to the others. "I was a soldier once. You always draw straws for guard duty on cold nights like this one."

"Oh yes, I forgot," the third one said sarcastically, "you were a soldier. A fact which obviously gives you an advantage in the field of spying. Let's just forget, for a moment, that the two of us are reformed thieves, who have quick reflexes and sharper wits."

The second shadow turned to the first, as if expecting him to refute the third's assertion. The first shrugged. "He's got a point, you know."

The second shadow sighed, shook his head, and took a coil of rope from his rucksack. "Remind me again why I decided to take this mission with you two?"

"You took it," the first said, as he took a matching coil of rope from his sack, "because you needed the money, since you're otherwise incapable of getting it from…outside sources."

The three shadows shared a quiet laugh over this as they tied their three ropes to the parapets and let them fall over the inner edge of the wall. In tandem, all three shadows let themselves slide down the rope, landing softly on the ground. Well, two of them did, at least.

"Well, if they didn't hear the clatter before, they certainly heard that!" The first shadow threw off his hood to reveal his sandy blonde hair, long bangs ruffling in the breeze made stronger as it came over the walls. "Honestly, Gerard, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were a foot soldier before you became a spy…Oh, wait, you were!"

"Sssh, Matthew!" The third shadow whispered softly. She let down her hood, revealing her fiery red hair in the dim light. "Remember, you two, we have a job to do here. We're going undercover for three days. We don't want the mission spoiled on the first night!"

Gerard turned to his two friends, his wide green eyes wide in apology. "Sorry, guys. I'll try to keep my old soldier reflexes in check."

Matthew threw off his cloak and muttered, "Yeah, you'll try to control your lack of reflexes."

"I heard that," Gerard hissed.

Leila just smiled and shook her head as she watched the two friends slip out of the alleyway and into the street smoothly. She had always admired the way her two colleagues worked, even if Gerard could be a bit of a liability sometimes. He was worth it in a fight. After waiting for a few minutes, she too threw off her cloak, wrapped a fashionable wool blanket around herself, and left the alley, walking in the opposite direction.


	2. One: Misunderstandings

**A/N: **_Yeah, I know, you didn't review this story, but maybe you'll review it if I add more chapters. So, here it is, the next chapter. This story is honestly going nowhere, but will eventually reach to the tragic end that you saw in the game. Sorry if that's a spoiler for you. I may have forgotten to mention, too, that I don't own Fire Emblem. Though I don't know why anyone would think that…_

TWO: Misunderstanding 

(divider! XD)

The morning after the shadows entered the city, all was quiet in Terona. Even though Leila heard plenty of gossip that morning as she strolled through the market, posing as a nobleman's wife, there was no mention of ropes found thrown over the wall, nor did anyone say anything about a soldier being assaulted on the wall. So far, everything was going according to plan.

She casually perused the merchant's huts, acting as though she was just there to be there, as most of the other wives around her were. In truth, she had already "acquired" several items that she had spotted, but didn't like the price. She really had been planning on paying for something, just to keep her cover as rich man's wife. But everything was far too expensive. In fact, she was disgusted. Much of the stuff these merchants were selling was of poor quality anyway. They would have been thrown out of the Ostian Marketplace within a day, and never been allowed inside the city again. And to think, these merchants didn't even have any soldiers to guard their tents from possible thieves. All in all, it was a pathetic sight.

"Madam!" Leila felt a hand touch her shoulder, and she instinctively whirled around, ready for a fight. Instead, she came face to face with Matthew, disguised as a merchant and wearing a convincing false beard and with his head wrapped in a turban. He spoke with a faked Nabatan accent, and a rather good one at that. "You look as though you are a woman of exquisite taste, no?"

She decided to play with him. "I have no idea what you're talking about, good sir. Now, if you'll excuse me—oh!" She acted as though she tripped and fell into him. He caught her with ease, wrapping his strong arms gracefully around her.

"I am so sorry, madam. Are you all right?"

"Yes," she said, dusting herself off. "Yes, I am. Thank you, kind sir."

"But of course, madam. I would be honored if you would take tea with me in my tent." He added quickly, "I could show you my wares. They are fine and beautiful, just like you, madam!"

She turned, glancing around her. Then she leaned over to him and whispered harshly in his ear, "What do you think you're doing? We're pushing it already, talking like this in a public place, and now you want me to have tea with you? Do you see any of the other wives doing that? I'm supposed to blend in!"

Matthew stepped back, his eyes showing real hurt. "I…understand, madam. It was rash of me to suggest this. Perhaps…another time." He bowed to her and walked back inside his tent, stopping along to way to swat away a thief's groping hand. With a swish of the tent flap, he disappeared into his tent.

Leila cast a sorrowful glance at his tent, then gathered her shawl around her. Snow was beginning to fall on this overcast afternoon, and the chill breeze was picking up. The storm they had witnessed last night was brewing, growing in intensity…and Leila, for one, didn't like it.

(divider)

Later that afternoon, the blizzard hit Castle Terona like a horde of dragons comes upon a pasture full of Sacaen cattle. Fierce winds rushed over the stone walls and battered the wooden homes, whisking away the smoke of the homes' wood fires before it could even leave the chimney. For her part, Leila was quite chilly in her room in the inn, which only had a roaring fire going in the common room—exactly where she didn't want to be. Scratch that—she longed to be in the common room, enjoying a nice mug of ale and listening to gossip of brutes and vagabonds, playing drinking games with mountain bandits. Alas, her mission was to pose as a noblewoman, ever shopping at the bazaar and going to parties at the Lord's house. Her cover would be blown if she so much as set foot in the tavern this evening. Especially since Matthew and his fellow merchants were currently down there, having a boisterous party. No, she would have to stay in her room, wrapped in every blanket she had been able to fit in her rucksack and still carry the blasted thing, and stare at the snow blowing furiously past her window.

She got up from her hard chair and began pacing for no particular reason, other than the fact that it gave her something to do. She considered going down there anyway, in another disguise. She probably wouldn't be recognized. She had her hair done up all fancy all day, and she had only entered the inn under a hood. If she went down there as her normal self—maybe even beat herself up a little—there was little chance that anyone would recognize her. That, and she had purposefully avoided eye contact with any of the merchants, other than Matthew.

In the end, the need for warmth decided for her. Not just a warm fire, but the warmth of a swallow of ale…and, maybe, the warmth of a close friend.

She threw off her blankets, allowing herself to shiver for a moment in the cold air. Then she took off her dress and donned a man's tunic and breeches, tying a fuschia bandanna around her neck, matching her hair. She looked at herself in the frozen window and smiled at her reflection. For a thief and a scofflaw, she didn't look too shabby. She took a pin out of her hair, let half of her shocking bangs fall across her face, veiling one of her bright eyes. That was much better, she decided. Grabbing one of her shawls and throwing it over her shoulders, she closed her door behind her and walked down the stairs and into the inn's common room.

The familiar smell of ale and sweat assaulted her senses before she even stepped on the soiled wood floor. She breathed it in heavily, letting it sink into her lungs and wrap itself around her body like old friends embrace one another after a long absence. She strode gracefully through the crowd, weaving in and out of crowds of drunken men singing too shrilly for their own good and women in inebriated slap-fights. She glanced from side to side nonchalantly, looking for Matthew. Finally, she saw him, still in his Nabatan disguise. Her heart leapt with joy again as she saw that Gerard was there too, in an apparently acquired Bern military uniform, sheathed sword at his side.

Casually, she stole a mug of ale from the counter and strode up to Matthew and Gerard's table, twirled a chair around from another table, sat down in it and slammed her mug on the table. "Well, gentlemen. How are we this fine evening?"

Matthew raised his glass to her and took a sip. "So, you decided to come play with the boys, huh? What was that you said today? You know, about _staying in disguise_? What happened to your noble lady disguise, hmmm?"

"Keep your voice down!" Gerard hissed. He looked around anxiously, but no one had heard Matthew's angry outburst. He leaned over the table and whispered, "As much as I hate to admit it, Leila, Matthew does have a point."

"Thank you. At least I'm recognized for some semblance of intelligence, even if I have to be in disguise for it happen."

"No one would believe anything you say if it came from your own sly mouth." Leila smiled devilishly at Matthew, but he didn't look up from his ale at her. She sighed and raised her hand for a mug from the waitress. Though she loved Matthew to death, he could be a bit standoffish at times.

After an extremely awkward silence fell over the table, Gerard said brightly, "Well, how about we share some information, hmm?" He looked expectantly at Matthew and Leila, but both declined to show any signs of being forthcoming. "Well, how about I start then?" He made a flourishing motion with his hand, as if he was presenting his uniform for display. "This beautiful little collection was taken from a Bern officer who is currently residing rather, erm, uncomfortably in an empty wine barrel in the cellar of a nearby inn. I took his post as a guard on the wall." He shivered. "You two had it easy down in the marketplace, let me tell you. The wind was horrible all day, and it was cold to boot. So cold, in fact, that hardly a word was spoken all day on the wall, save 'end watch!', of course, which was cause for several celebratory cheers."

"My assignment won't be effective this week," Leila said. "The lord and his lady appear to be on vacation at the moment. I don't know when they'll be back, but—"

"They're already here," Matthew interrupted. "Their servants came to my tent before Leila did to buy some new decorations for Lord Terona's table. They said that the lord is throwing a party tomorrow to commemorate some big announcement." He looked up intently at Leila. "If you had taken tea with me in the market today, you would already have this information and be formulating a plan of action based on it."

"What other plan of action could there be, other than the one I'm already on?"

"Maybe posing as a servant at the castle, so you can infiltrate the party! Maybe, at least attempt to do something to help this mission instead of wandering around the marketplace in daze, then coming down to a bar instead of getting your outfit ready for tomorrow, when the lord's party is, or maybe you could've—"

"Shut up!" Gerard roared. Leila hid her face just in case, but it wasn't necessary. No one turned to look at them.

Leila wanted to apologize to Matthew, but Gerard didn't give her a chance to answer. "Now, you all just listen to me. I don't know why the heck you two got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning—"

"We got here this morning, remember," Matthew said dryly.

"Oh, bug off. Anyway, I don't know why you two are against each other all of a sudden, but it has to stop." He looked at both of his friends. "Neither of you have any logical argument against each other, so just shut up and drink your ale."

"No, Gerard," Leila said, shaking her head. "You're wrong. My whole disguise is totally stupid. I have never been trained as a noble lady. I could never pass as one in a normal conversation, much less…dance. Oh, gods forbid, can you imagine me trying to dance with some nobleman?"

Matthew snorted, and his ale frothed from his nose. The thieves burst out in pent up laughter.

"You've got that right!" Gerard laughed. "Do you guys remember the time that we were supposed to be traveling mages to get into Mordred's Yule Ball? And we did that ridiculous jig that we claimed channeled our magical energy?"

All three laughed as they remembered this event, and others as well. Long into the night, they shared stories of their combined misadventures in their careers as thieves. As the fire in the hearth reduced itself to smoldering embers and the keg of ale behind the counter ran dry, the three friends parted ways, with every intention of completing the mission the next day—with Leila as a servant.


	3. Two: Apologies

**A/N: **_Hey again. Yes, I know…two chapters in one day…what could be better? Actually, probably a lot of things. As I mentioned before, I don't own Fire Emblem, and I have no idea where this story is going. I have the next chapter in mind, but after that…who knows. I hope you like it so far, and it isn't too mushy. I don't think it is. And no, I do not want to see Leila in this outfit. I just thought it would be funny. In a horrible sort of way._

**Two: Apologies**

(divider!)

The next day, Leila awoke to the sound of someone pounding heavily on her door.

"Get up, yeh lazy bum! Two hours till lunch, and I'll be expectin' my payment then, ya hear?" The innkeeper sounded rather irate about it.

She attempted to get up, but then fell back against her pillow with a groan. A headache exploded, the aftereffects of too much mead the night before. Slower this time, she sat up and cradled her head in her hands. The one problem with staying over a tavern was that a hangover was inevitable. At least, it was if you were a vagabond like Leila.

She vaguely recalled the night before, the plan for her to pose as a servant in the lord's household. She felt her legs and her arms. Well, her street clothes might work for that. Unless the servants had uniforms. You never could know these days; sometimes to more vain nobles made everyone in the castle dress in the family colors, regardless of their rank. Heck, she had even snuck through a party where all the guests were dressed in the colors of the host family.

She looked at the door, half thinking that she should go that way. Then she thought better of it. Besides, the innkeeper would want her to pay for her room, and the pay for Ostian spies was only what they could steal. Grimacing from the pain of her headache, she lifted the hatch on the window and pushed it open. A blast of cool air rushed into the room, causing Leila to instantly shiver. Only then did she remember that it had snowed yesterday.

She grabbed her shawl and scarf and wrapped them around herself, then looked out the window. Though she was on the second floor, it didn't seem too far down. Jumping still seemed like a viable option.

She lifted her legs over the ledge and let herself fall from the windowsill. She landed knee deep in snow. Her breeches were instantly soaked. She groaned from the headache and shivered from the icy cold that was crawling up her legs. She glanced around quickly to make sure no one had seen her, rather belatedly. Her hangover really was hampering her thought process. The thought of cutting down on alcohol occurred to her for a brief instant, but was pushed back instantly. Cutting down would be tantamount to chickening out. And chickening out was not something a thief did.

Somehow, she fought her way through the bitter wind and fierce cold to the marketplace. It was almost completely deserted. After all, what noblewoman in her right mind would come to the bazaar on a day like this? No, only those up to no good would be stupid enough to be out in the inclement weather.

Snow started to blow across her face, stinging her eyes, making it nearly impossible to see. Still, she somehow blindly found her way to Matthew's tent, and lifted the flap. She let herself in.

It was warm inside, the heat coming from a roaring campfire in the center of the tent. Arrayed around it were a table and two chairs, another table with several antique items on it, and a small cauldron half-filled with a sweet-smelling stew. Matthew had been bent over silently on one of the chairs, staring at the fire, but as Leila walked in, he sat up with a start. "Oh…I didn't expect to see you here today."

Leila shrugged. "Yeah…I didn't have anywhere else to go. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do when and, quite frankly…I was sleeping until just a few minutes ago. I woke up with a terrible hangover."

Matthew laughed bitterly. "Yeah, so did I."

An awkward silence filled the room, and Leila's eyes wandered around the tent. Finally, she said, "This is a nice place. How come you got the good lodgings and I got a room in the—"

"Look, Leila," Matthew interrupted, and looked directly into her eyes. "I'm sorry for yesterday…the whole servant thing had absolutely nothing to do with it. I guess I was just…kind of…well, you know…"

"Greedy?" Leila offered, knowing that wasn't the answer Matthew was looking for.

"No, no, not greedy. It was…selfish." He stood up and put his hands on her shoulders. "I guess I just wanted to spend some time with you yesterday. Being a Nabatan merchant is a lonely job."

She drew away. "It's little wonder…for how bad a Nabatan merchant smells…"

Matthew's face went red instantly, and then he and Leila started laughing hysterically. She stared into his eyes. He stared back. They gave each other a hug.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"No," he whispered, "I am." Then, bidding her wait, he turned around and rummaged through the sack that was hanging over the back of the chair. "And, as a token of my apology, may I present you with these." He turned around and held out his hands.

Leila groaned. Apparently, Lord Terona was one of the vain lords she had heard stories about. Although, if he was, she wasn't sure what he had to be vain about. The outfit that Matthew held before her was a disgusting shade of lavender, trimmed with a putrid shade of puce, and emblazoned with a device in the form of a golden, five pronged candleabra.

"Lovely, aren't they?" Matthew said dryly. "Actually, I wonder why on earth his lordship hasn't disowned his family, just so he can avoid looking at servants wearing these atrocious things."

Leila grimaced as she held the blouse up to her chest. Not only was it ugly, but it was far too small. She was almost afraid to try it on for fear of bursting out of it.

"I'm afraid that there is little choice in sizing. Gerard gave these to me this morning. I thought it best not to ask where he got them."

By 'them', he was referring to the blouse she held in her hand the skirt, which he was now displaying for her viewing displeasure. Though it may have been of a suitable length at one time, the previous owner had apparently done a tear job on the hemline, not bothering to sew it up or make it look nice. She was suddenly getting an all too clear idea of where Gerard had gotten the outfit, though she wished the thought would go away.

"Does he know that I'm supposed to be inconspicuous in disguise?" she said in disgust, tossing the blouse over Matthew's head. "Did the thought even occur to him?"

Matthew grabbed the blouse with his free hand and pulled it off his face. "If I'm correctly imagining the sequence of events here—"

"Oh, gods," she groaned.

"—I would suspect that inconspicuousness was the furthest thing from his mind."

Exasperated with both her male friends, she grabbed the outfit from Matthew and shoved it into her sack. "Do you have an apron of some sort? I think the kitchen will be the best place for gossip. And it will take attention off this skirt…"

"Here." He tossed her a brown leather apron, stained with soot.

"This is a blacksmith's apron, wyvern brain."

"Hey," he shrugged, "it's the best I can do on such short notice."

She turned on her heels, walking out of the warm tent and into the wintry chill. She hardly noticed. Her happy smile was all the warmth she needed.


	4. Three: Promise

_**A/N: **Hello again! I know, I left this story alone for a long time, but I decided to show it some love again, as I really do like the characters. Thus, a new chapter is born! _

_Oh, and to those of you who don't like side characters that an author bothers to develop and bit and then drops like a rock, prepare to be disappointed. While I like Cook, she can't well travel with the rest of the party, nor can she hold a story on her own. Alas, that is the truth._

_Finally, if you think I actually own Fire Emblem, you're giving me way too much credit. I just play the stuff and write about it. Nintendo and Intelligent Systems get all the credit. (Though I might as well take credit for the Sacred Stones: it wasn't nearly as good! XD)_

_Enjoy, and do remember to review. It's just a common courtesy for us writers that want to get better at what we do._

Chapter Three: Promise

(DIVIDER)

"Honey, can you get that there pot off the fire for me? Thank ye, thank ye. Oh, and get those crumpets out of the oven. For gods' sakes, get over there and get them out! Excellent! By my granny's wisdom teeth, if I ever had a new helper as quick as you the first day, his grace could throw a party every day of the week!"

Leila wasn't so sure about that, but she appreciated the cook's sentiment nonetheless. The plump and elderly woman was a commanding presence in the expansive but cluttered kitchen, and ever since Leila had entered the servant's door quietly that morning, Cook—as Leila had begun to affectionately call her, but only in her mind, for there was no time to address the woman as Leila did her chores—had been ordering her around, no questions asked. At first, Leila had been overwhelmed, but soon she was in a groove, and her quick wit allowed her to reasonably fake anything she didn't really know. For hours incalculable, she ran back and forth throughout the kitchen, dodging other cooks as they spun around to watch two pots, other servants as they ran helter-skelter, gathering ingredients, and several headless chickens that came careening out of a side room, followed by an angry butcher carrying an array of dangerous looking knives that even Leila would be afraid to carry around, let alone carry while running around like a crazed lunatic after some escaped chickens in a crowded kitchen.

And so she was relieved that, after retrieving some golden-brown crumpets from a brick oven, Cook gave her time to relax. At that point, she lifted a glass of brandy from another cook's table and sat in a corner, watching the chaos from afar.

"Beautiful, isn't it dear?" Leila turned to see Cook standing over her, a smug smile on her face. "Ever since I was a young lass, I've worked here in Lord Terona's kitchens. Me mum, she was a cook here as well. Taught me everything she knew. Where everything was, how to prepare his grace's favorite dishes, why no one should ever cross the butcher if his chickens get loose…" she trailed off into a chuckle as she and Leila watched the butcher chase the beheaded chickens around the kitchen, as if he himself was a chicken with its head cut off.

"I bet it took a lifetime to teach you how to do everything and find everything in here," Leila said. "Your mother must have been a special woman…to teach you everything she knew."

Cook laughed. "She was a wonderful lady, me mum." Then she gave a warm look at Leila. "But you aren't so shabby at finding things yourself."

Leila shrugged. "I cheat. If I can't find something, I just take it from another cook's table."

Both Cook and Leila shared a laugh over that.

"I've done the same thing in my time. Heck, I still do it every now and then, just to make Maude over yonder mad."

Leila sipped her brandy and watched quietly as the woman Cook referred to as Maude waddled around her area of the kitchen, yelling at her servants so loudly that her face was turning purple.

"She looks like a real piece of work," she murmured.

"Yeah. I'm certain I wouldn't be here today if I was her apprentice instead of me mum's. Stress would have worn my heart out ages ago." Then she turned to her own kitchen and sighed. "Well, lass, suppose we get back to work?"

Leila nodded, finished off her crumpet, took her last sip of brandy, and followed Cook back into the fray. They had a dinner to prepare, and time was running away.

(DIVIDER!)

Hours later, the din in the kitchen had quieted. Leila thought it was the most profound silence she had ever heard—or not heard…or whatever. All the servants and all the cooks were arranged single-file, a line that twisted its way through the kitchen like a snake. All were carrying silver platters, silver bowls, silver trays, or silver goblets, ready to carry them into the Great Hall of Castle Terona. All were dressed in the atrocious colors of their lord's house, emblazoned with his ridiculous device.

Thankfully, Leila had obtained a new servant's outfit from Cook, who had been gracious enough to hunt down a spare for her. It didn't make the outfit any less terrible, only less trashy. Though, she had to admit, she did feel important. Since she was so light on her feet, but could still carry a heavy load, Cook had tasked her with carrying her prize into the Hall: the Stuffed Lamb. All the other servants had given her dark looks since her job was announced earlier that afternoon, like it was something to be coveted. She had never been used to servitude, and didn't know the ins and outs of servant hierarchies, but she still somehow felt honored to have the role. It probably had something to do with the way Cook beamed with pride when she looked at her in her uniform, carrying her pride and joy.

If only Matthew would look at her like that…

She sighed, and banished the thought as Cook pushed through the open doorway and motioned for the lead servant to start the processional. Slowly but steadily, the servants began to file out the doorway one by one, their backs absurdly straight and their pompous faces positively hysterical. It took all of Leila's willpower to restrain the laughter that begged to be released from her chest, but she somehow managed it. She fixed a look of contentment on her face, trying very hard to look normal in doing so—though one could not look completely normal in such an atrocious outfit and carrying a gargantuan silver platter.

As the servant in front of her took his first step forward, she took hers as well, following him on the twisted path through the kitchens and to the door. As she passed through the threshold, Cook whispered, "Looking good, sweetheart." Leila smiled absently as she passed into the Great Hall.

Having been raised all her life as a commoner, the luxurious life of the upper class never ceased to enthrall her—nor, she suspected, would it ever. In this case, however, she was more amused than captivated. Lord Terona's Great Hall was like something out of a gaudy tapestry that had been faded by constant exposure to sunlight. This effect was quite obviously caused by the table linens, curtains, and all other examples of cloth in the cavernous Hall, the same ghastly color as all the servants' uniforms. Leila was beginning to wonder if the Lord Terona had a severely grotesque sense of humor or if he was just colorblind. In the end, she decided as she took her place in the line of servants that encircled the long central table, it really didn't matter to her. After all, the events tonight were just another job. She would get a new one in less than a week's time. She chastised herself for believing such blatant lies. She would never forget the horror of wearing this god-awful costume, nor the loving hospitality of Cook. She sighed inwardly, wishing that she could have a memory of her and Matthew to add to it.

Thinking of Matthew caused her to search for him—a difficult feat, as the servants were instructed to stand still, at attention, until the Lord called for the guests to be served. So, with her head still erect and forward-facing, she surveyed the faces at the table, and the backs of the heads of those she could not see. Finally, she spotted white turban, wrapped around the head of a man far smaller in size than could be assumed from the turban. If one did not know Matthew, Leila considered smugly, they could mistakenly think that he was compensating for something.

She leaned forward just slightly, trying hard to listen to the conversation Matthew was having, but she had to snap back into position when a nearby servant hissed shrilly at her. She turned to him and smiled innocently, then looked forward again. This time she caught a glimpse of Gerard, who was not doing a good job of guarding his post—instead flirting with the buxom servant girl standing next to him, no doubt whispering sweet nothings into her ear with the utmost conviction, weaving her into his sticky web of masculine voice and—

She was thankfully saved from needing to finish her disgusting train of thought by the sudden hushed silence of the room as Lord Terona stood up from his chair.

Dressed in robes of normal looking—at least, compared to everything else in his mansion—burgundy, his greasy, graying hair falling about his shoulders, he looked every bit the vain lord she had imagined him. His eyes, devoid of any youthful sparkle, betrayed his true self. Leila reflected on what her old grandmother had told her on her deathbed: "The eyes are the windows to the soul…and in yours I see life."

The strained voice of Lord Terona pulled Leila out of her swimming memories. In a strong tone—one that apparently strained his aging vocal cords—the Bern noble began to deliver a pre-dinner speech. Leila listened intently to every word, knowing that her mission hinged on whatever the lord was about to reveal.

"My fellow lords, ladies, and other esteemed guests, thank you for joining me for dinner tonight. I hope you have found the conversation up to now pleasurable and the accommodations comfortable." Various members of the assembled party nodded and mumbled thank-yous, the disguised Matthew among them. He continued, "And now, I wish to reveal the reason you are all here."

He paused. "You are all here because I think we all share a vision. A vision for the betterment of Bern. Tonight, I present to you…the person who will bring about this better future of Bern." At this point, Lord Terona smiled widely, and with a grandiose hand gesture, he bid a young, dark haired man sitting two seats down from him stand. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you my son, Hephastaeus Jorgensen Terona IV, who will be attending the Royal Political School at the Manse Castle Town!"

As the dark haired man stood, and the guests began to clap politely for him, Leila was standing still beside the wall, fuming. This was the big announcement the lord was making? That his son was going to a boarding school for brats? Despite her extensive training in containing her emotions, it took almost every fiber of her being to prevent her from throwing the lord's stuffed pig in his stuffed face and storming out of the Hall into the snow. This stupid mission had brought them all the way up into the middle of the Bern mountains for no reason, and now she had frozen her butt off and worn this ridiculous costume all for naught, and—

"Pssst!" the servant beside her hissed again. "Lord Terona called for the meal to be served!"

Leila scowled and stormed forward, followed by a rustling from all corners of the Hall as the other servants followed her, moving forward in unison with grace and skill. For her part, she stomped up to the table and dropped her silver platter on the table. It landed with a resounding thud just before she yanked the lid off of the tray, sending several decorative grapes skittering across the table and into the laps of several shocked lords and ladies.

For a moment, nothing happened—Leila's behavior had thoroughly stunned everyone. Even the servants remained motionless, two feet from the table, clutching their own trays like they were holding on to the last thread of their existence.

Suddenly, a thickly accented voice spoke to her from directly beside her. "My dear, if only my servants would serve my meals with such ferocity as you, life in my own hall would be much more interesting."

She glared downward at the person who had spoke, and was shocked to see Matthew staring up at her. He winked at her, and smiled apologetically. She turned around and rushed out of the Hall, shoved her way past a distressed Cook, and threw open the side door. With a final breath of the warm kitchen air, she crossed her arms in front of her and trudged out the door into the icy wind and snow.

(DIVIDER)

Leila climbed in through the window that she had jumped down from many long hours ago, cold and tired from the solitary trek back to the Inn. She rolled in through the window and closed the shutters loudly, telling the part of herself that told her to be silent to go to hell.

She collapsed against the wall. The room was chilly, but at least another person did not occupy it. In fact, it seemed that the innkeeper had kept it safe for her, just so she could come back and pay for it. She smiled in spite of herself, thinking of the old codger behind his bar counter rubbing two gold pieces together, waiting for his well-paying lady houseguest to walk through his door and drop her purse in front of him.

She suddenly became aware of a fire blazing in the hearth. She looked up and saw Matthew, devoid of his turban, kneeling in front of the fireplace, watching her. "You look like you're about to freeze to death."

She smirked. "A rogue until the end, huh?"

He smirked back at her, his eyes shining in the light of the dancing flames. "I'm surprised I got here before you. You must not have hurried here."

She shook her head and crawled over to the fire, where Matthew took her in his arms, throwing his cape over her shoulders. "I was just tired…and frustrated."

"I could tell."

They sat there for what seemed like hours, staring into the fire, but warmed more by each other's company. Leila snuggled in close to his chest, and Matthew laid his head on top of Leila's.

"Why can't we have time like this all the time?"

Matthew looked down at her. "Because we're spies, my dear. Spies don't usually have 'alone time' unless it really is 'alone' time."

Leila giggled and punched him playfully in the chest. "Always the patriot, you are."

He shook his head. "I'm not nearly the patriot Gerard is." His eyes became distant, and in a hilariously accurate farce of Gerard's voice, he said, "The things I do for my country."

Leila cracked up laughing and shoved Matthew playfully aside. "You're awful, you know that?"

He smiled devilishly. "Hey, it comes from being a thief."

Their eyes met for a moment, sparkling in the warm glow of the hearth.

"Can you promise me something?"

She smiled. "Anything."

"Never leave me."

She frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

He sighed. "I…don't want this to be the last time we can do this."

She scooted back closer to him and hugged him tightly. "I promise."

He smiled. Then, leaning over casually, he kissed her on the forehead. "In that case, we can save the rest of this for another time." With that, he took his cloak from her back and threw it over himself, clasping it and heading for the window in one simultaneous motion.

"Wait a minute," Leila whispered. She walked quietly over to the window and opened the shutters as quietly as she could.

"Your hands were made by angels," he said with a smile.

"I'm glad you say that." She kissed him, this time on the lips.

His eyes widened as she pulled away. "Wow…so are your lips."

She giggled. "Hopefully the angels give you wings on your way down."

He looked confusedly at her just before she shoved him out the window, a feat that took surprisingly little effort. Seconds later, he landed in the snow, feet first, glaring up at her and shivering—more from shock than the cold.

"Wh-wh-what was that for?"

She smiled innocently. "Noble ladies don't let vagabonds spend the night in their rooms, only to let them sneak out the window." Blowing him a kiss, she closed the shutters just as quietly as she had opened them.

With the wind tousling his hair and twisting his cape away from him, Matthew just stared up at the window where he had been standing only moments earlier. Then he smiled, got up, and walked away, murmuring, "That was the most romantic thing she's ever done to me."


	5. Four: Torn

_A/N: Hello again. I recently got an angry review, which was less a review than a complaint, actually, demanding that I write a new chapter of this story, or the reviewer would be forced to take drastic measures. Much as I was intrigued as to how she was going to pull such a threat off, I decided it would be better to avoid that situation altogether. So, I decided to do as she ordered and write a new chapter._

_Truth be told, I have always regretted impulsively starting all my stories and then neglecting them for a long time. I reserve a special place in my heart for this story especially. I found Leila's death in the game especially tragic for Matthew, and I wanted to know more about why he was so devoted to her in the first place. Of course, the game yielded no more clues, so I decided to take it on myself. _

_Though the story I get the heartiest praise for is a gigantic tragic epic in the FFTA section, I truthfully love nothing more than a good romantic story. Which explains, I suppose, why I love this story so much, and why I always feel the urge to come back to it when I read it. In that regard, here goes!_

**For My Country, For Your Love… **

**Chapter Four: Torn**

* * *

Descending from the craggy mountain range that marked the western edge of Bern's territory, a change came over the landscape that was not unlike that of night and day. The cold, swirling winds that blasted through the mountain canyons dissipated into the open air of the plains of Sacae, and the rocky, twisted spires of rock gave way to the rolling, grassy hills of Pherae. Warmth kissed the flowers and trees, coaxing blossoms from even the gangliest growth. 

Leila breathed the fragrant air in deeply, and sighed. It was a relief to be able to breathe freely, without fear of her lungs freezing in agony. Her feet were bare, for a change—the leather boots she had trekked over the mountains in had been discarded as soon as she could bear it. The grass massaged her blistered feet with an enchanting softness as she nearly danced down the hill. Matthew and Gerard were ahead of her, strolling and laughing, but seemingly indifferent to the magic she saw all around her. _Men_, she thought bemusedly, and let out a ringing laugh that sent a flock of finches soaring into the bright blue skies.

"You know, we _are_ still supposed to be sneaking away," Matthew said sarcastically. He turned and flashed a ridiculous smile to Leila from the hill below her. The breeze swirled through his light brown hair, causing several strands to fall in front of his eyes. He casually blew them back into order above his brow. Leila watched and couldn't help but giggle. "Sorry. I just figured that you'd hear anything coming up behind us, what with your fabled listening skills and all."

"Don't forget his big ears," Gerard's gruff voice chimed in. "Those things have to catch everything."

Matthew's face flushed scarlet for a moment, then cleared. Feigning scorn, he replied, "Well…I see that my presence here is valued."

Leila laughed again and rushed down the hill. Her red hair whipped backward like a torch flying in the wind, and her dress billowed like the cirrus clouds overhead. Dandelions broke and spread their seeds as she flew down the hillside, faster and faster, until she finally reached the bottom. But she didn't stop.

"No, no, no!" Matthew cried, but it was too late, and Leila was having far too much fun to quit. She tackled Matthew headlong over the hilltop, sending both of them rolling through a carpet of wildflowers.

Gerard couldn't help but let out a troubled sigh before he started his own, much slower, trudge down the hillside, following the rolled-over swath of flowers.

* * *

Leila had never felt so alive, so free from everything, as she did rolling down the hillside with Matthew. Being entwined with him, with the intoxicating scent of summer wrapped around them…it was like heaven in the midst of Elibe. The flowers gently slowed their fall as they tumbled down, and down, and down the rolling hills. The rising and falling heights and the fluttering in her stomach soon matched pace with the thudding rhythm of her heart in her chest. 

She couldn't see Matthew's eyes, but she could feel his strong arms wrapped around her, protecting her from every hard fall, every errant rock, and every unexpected twist along the way.

_Your dreams are running away with you_, her mind protested softly. _You're imagining this happiness. _

_And who's to say that's a bad thing? _her heart sang in reply. _What do you know, anyway?_

_…Who's to say that this will last at all? …Have your happiness while you can enjoy it… _her mind finally replied.

And then they rolled to a stop. Leila opened her eyes, unaware that she had ever closed them in the first place, and found Matthew's clear blue eyes staring back at her, dancing under the shadow of his brow.

"Well…" he whispered between quick breaths. "That was certainly exhilarating."

Leila pouted ridiculously. "That's all?"

"No," he said with a laugh, and kissed her. "It was the fastest I've ever gone down a hill in my life."

"You're the best, you know that?"

Matthew shushed her playfully. "Don't let Gerard hear you. You'll break his heart."

"Please. I've survived much worse." Gerard's arrival was greeted by laughter as Leila pushed Matthew off of her. He rolled away, almost falling down the hillside again, before Leila reached over and grabbed his hand. Quickly, with the aid of Leila's deceptively strong arms, he scrambled back up and sat, breathing heavy, on a small boulder nearby.

"Look at you," Gerard said with no small measure of disgust. "You're a mess. No one is going to believe we're locals out for a night at the local tavern. Shellak is just a few miles away, and there are no streams between here and there to wash your clothes out either."

"So we change the story," Leila said, standing up and dusting off her dress. "Honestly, you get so uptight sometimes."

Matthew nodded. "Hard to believe you're the biggest womanizer in Ostia."

Gerard set his hands on his hips. "Do you two realize what you're doing?"

"Heading to the rendezvous with our contact in Shellak?" Matthew quipped sarcastically.

"You're out of your minds, you know. To think you can keep this quiet."

Two sets of eyes bored into him. "That won't be a problem, will it?"

"Not from me," Gerard said. "But from others…yes. Lord Hector might not think it the best idea…"

"Lord Hector will have nothing to do with it, since he won't find out."

"He _will _find out!" Gerard shouted. A flock of birds shot out of their perches, screeching in angry protest as his Gerard's voice resounded against the hillside.

Matthew and Leila looked on in stony silence as Gerard stood, shaking slightly, his face a strained amalgamation of anger, bewilderment, and resentment. "He'll find out, you guys. And then you'll be done for." He turned, looked over his shoulder, and disappeared below the descending hillside.

Matthew turned and saw Leila, fear in her eyes, kneeling beside him. He touched her cheek, wiped a tear away from her eyes, and kissed her forehead. "Hector won't find out. I promise you."

"But how? Matt, do you realize we've been requesting missions together now for over a year? Someone has to be suspicious! And besides Gerard, the only person we have regular contact with is Lord Hector!"

"He will _not_ find out." Matthew kissed her again, and gave her a smile. He only hoped it looked more sure than he felt. "And even if he does…"

Leila grabbed his hand. Her fingers were cold, icy cold. "If he does?"

Matthew shook his head. "You promised me you would never leave me. I don't intend to let you break that promise."

As they shared another kiss, the sun disappeared behind a bank of clouds that had sprung up from behind the mountains like a cat stalking a mouse. Rain began to fall, softly at first, then harder, and soon Matthew and Leila were kneeling, facing each other, in a symphony of raindrops and shuddering grasses. Matthew stood.

"Please…" Leila whispered.

Matthew turned and looked lovingly at her, only to recoil in horror. In a terrifying instant, Leila's soaking red hair turned to rivers of blood, and her sky blue eyes turned to a lifeless, overcast gray.

He blinked, and the image was gone. Leila's eyes were still blue, though they seemed to be overflowing with an ocean of tears. She was still alive. He had the urge to run up and kiss her again, but his feet were held in place by some force unknown. He had no words to comfort her. What he saw in her eyes was reflected in his heart, and he did not have the strength to come out and say it. In silence, he looked away and descended the hillside.

Leila watched him leave, helplessly rooted among the drooping blades of grass by her own lack of conviction. _It will be all right in the end…won't it?_ she thought. But try as she might, her heart refused to believe her mind.

Torn, like the lightning-forked clouds hovering above her, Leila stood and followed the broken and crushed path down the hillside.


End file.
